The Queen's Return: III
by KeshaRocks
Summary: Giving up her life of cloaks and daggers, Libby has embraced her identity as Erelia Glendeylin. Now she is off to find the one weapon that is capable of ending Skyrim's war. But new threats arise from her return and she must fight her way through years of savagery consuming her race. Will she have the power to save her people, or will she forever be the Queen of the Underworld?
1. Prologue

Diamond loved Libitania Desidenius, the thief that she had grown up with. Her friend who she met accidentally in the streets of Whiterun. Her friend who she survived Helgen with. Who always had her back and protected her through thick and thin.

Farkas loved Lilian Camobrook. The lost soul Kodlak brought into The Companions, the assassin that was dragged from the pits of Cidhna Mines. Her cockiness and bravado gained his attention, and it was her passion that gained his heart. Farkas loved the broken girl that had been a slave.

Nassari loved Solantir. She loved the spirit and soul and Queen's potential to save this tragic world. She loved the defender of the weak and the determination and heart that had brought her there.

And now, Skyrim loves Erelia Glendeylin. The long lost heir of a forgotten race. The Queen who had survived the extermination of her kind, and the hardships of when life tried to break her. They love her beginnings and everything she is after that, and everything she is now. They love all of her.

Fire. Darkness. Dust and blood and shadow. That was what made Libitania Desidenius.

But now, embracing her identity as Erelia Desidenius Glendeylin, she will fill the world with her light – her gift. She will light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken will find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwell in that abyss.

Light will drive out the darkness.

She will remake this world – remake it for them, those she had loved with a glorious, burning heart; a world so brilliant and prosperous that war and hatred will be a distant memory. She will build it for her people, who have survived this long, and whom she will not abandon. She will make for them a kingdom such as there has never been, even if it took until her last breath.

She is their hope. She is their Queen.

Warmth. Light. Hope and love and triumph. This is what makes Erelia Desidenius Glendeylin.


	2. Chapter 1

"Why are you here, Tolan? The Vigilants and I were finished with each other a long time ago." Isran speaks, his voice reverberating through the stones of the atrium.

Sunlight breaches through small crevices and the water wells from above, illuminating the circular mosaic below.

"You know why I'm here. The Vigilants are under attack everywhere. The vampires are much more dangerous than we believed."

"And now you want to come running to safety with the Dawngaurd, is that it?" There is no satisfaction in his voice, only a cold mask hardened into neutrality. His heavy armor winks in the light of the fun, the hilt of his intimidating Warhammer peeking over his shoulder, the hilt dull and ordinary. "I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawngaurd is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now that you've stirred up the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?"

The Vigilant man swallows heavily, his lip quivering. He takes a step closer. "Isran, Carcette is dead. The Hall of the Vigilants . . . everyone . . . they're all dead. You were right, we were wrong. Isn't that enough for you?"

Isran's face softens, but his sharp edges don't waver. The deadly calm in his eyes speaks great lengths of horrors he has seen. "Yes, well . . . I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you . . . I am sorry, you know."

"Sir," a young man speaks, dressed in the same armor with a crossbow at his back. "Perhaps we should send out some men to observe the hall and rescue any survivors."

"I wouldn't waste the time." Tolan dismisses. "There are no survivors. I can guarantee that."

Isran turns to Tolan. "You were telling me about some cave that the Vigilants were poking around in. Seemed to think it was related to these recent vampire attacks. What was it, Dimhollow?"

"Yes. Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adavald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artifact of some kind." A forlorn expression shadows his features. "We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran. He was at the hall when it was attacked."

"That's good enough for me. We'll send some men out to see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck they'll still be there."

The men dismiss, Isran hollering for everyone to assemble into the mess hall. On the outside, sheltered between the embrasure of the fort wall, a cloaked figure is crouched, small weapons concealed in her boots and clasped to her waist.

She had heard of the rebuild of the Dawngaurd while shopping in the market of Shor's Stone, and didn't waste any time before she grabbed her necessities and rode on horseback through the woods and across the river towards the secluded valley of the Dawngaurd. She kept to the shadows as best she could, and no one noticed her as she scaled the massive wall. It was insulting.

As quickly as she was there, she is gone, and soon hooves are thundering across the plains.

This is just the lead she needed after days of simply traveling and reviewing her constant notes and books. While she's not too keen on joining the Dawngaurd, there's no harm in seeing if these vampire attacks and supposed artifact could relate to her mission.

As she hurtles through the trees, she leans her head out from her hood and observes the blue sky, the fluffy clouds floating across. The smell of the autumn is dismissing, and soon snow will cover the grounds.

She won't mind. It won't stop her.

With nothing but open fields and brown grass ahead of her, she smiles as her hood falls off of her head, and her hair billows behind her in a gleaming wave of silver.


	3. Chapter 2

The inn of Ivarstead is quiet as it has been for the week, or ever since it was built. Set at the base of the Throat of the World, the mountain towers overhead, casting the town in its ominous shadow by the late afternoon.

At least she has the inn to herself, which means no one is looking over her shoulder as she sits at a table closest to the fire, her journal and notes spread before her. Both are wan and wrinkled from her days of traveling and constantly stuffing them into the burlap sack she used to use for hunting.

It also means than no one in this small town knew that the young woman sitting at Vilemyr Inn is Erelia Desidenius Glendeylin, heir of the Snow Elves, the bringer of light and beloved of Auri-El. She wouldn't be noticed in a larger town since she's concealed herself once again among the mortals. Even if she has accepted her heritage, she still can't risk walking around with her silver hair, pointed ears and elongated canines. So once again she is bound to her mortal features, but not restricted.

After fleeing Whiterun, and getting her new tattoo across her back – of which is healing nicely – she went to the college of Winterhold and straight to the Arch-Mage. He was more than honored to see her, and more than willing to help her, since he still owed her for the time she had saved the college from another Thalmor disaster.

He casted a spell upon her that masked her Elven features, still giving her the identity of an Imperial, but the powers and strengths of a Snow Elf. She can see the world with such stunning clarity that she wishes she had used it as Libitania. She can smell and taste and breathe it like the finest wine. Only through immortality can she truly _live_.

She refuses to go back to her feeble mortal form, no matter how skilled she was without her enhanced abilities. She has gone for so long without truly seeing and smelling the world, and she will be damned if she doesn't use it now. It's more than a matter of getting closer to her roots, it's also because she never truly mastered the skill to shift back and forth so easily like others before her. For now, the cloaking spell is all she has.

The door opens behind her, and Erelia doesn't even need to turn her head to see who it is. For when she hears the simple gait of the person, listening to how heavy the feet hit the floor, she knew it was Farkas. Of course, the smell of dried blood was also a dead giveaway as well.

Only when the footsteps come close does she turn her head and find her beloved wearing a thick jacket and a hunting bow strapped across his back. He smiles at her and Erelia's eyes drift down to find five rabbits and four fish in his hands.

Erelia returns his smile. "Impressive." She coos.

"With the turning of the seasons, now is the time to intercept them before they migrate or hibernate." Farkas says. He leans down to set a kiss upon her cheek, but Erelia leans away giggling.

"Perhaps after you've properly showered I'll reward you. You smell like shit."

"All in a day's work." He says proudly.

Behind them, the barkeep chuckles and Farkas approaches, prepped to trade. Erelia laughs and returns to her book and notes.

They've been staying at the inn for a week now, paying their fee by bringing home game to the keeper. The keeper already knew Libitania, and was more than happy to let her stay with Farkas – without the need of fear and intimidation. She was a friend of Libitania's a while back.

Momentarily, she tears her eyes away from her papers to look at Farkas converse with the barkeep. The muscles in his back move as he sets his strong arms atop the counter.

They left Whiterun almost three weeks ago, and she constantly worries how he is handling it. He claims he is fine, and he hasn't done anything to show her otherwise. Still, it did so little to quell her worry. The former-Companion so easily left his title for her, a queen without a crown, without an official kingdom to even rule over. And why, because he loved her.

Throughout their small travel, Erelia kept insisting he go back, but he refused to leave her side. She gave him credit, though, he still looked at her the same and not like some miracle; nor does he call her by her birthright name.

She still can't believe that such a beautiful and powerful creature belongs to her. What started as a simple bickering conversation in Jorrvaskr, has now come to the point that she can't bear to live without him, and she finds herself worrying like a housewife whenever he goes out to hunt.

His hair is long enough that he can pull it into a ponytail as it is now, his face relatively clean and his cerulean eyes could've won him the hearts of many women, but instead, he somehow fell for Erelia, not that she complained.

It's been so long since she's felt this way about, anyone. When she was younger, she can vaguely remember having childish feelings for a son of a nobleman of her father's court, but she quickly grew out of it. She cannot stop staring at Farkas. Despite the blood and mud, his muscled body almost appears to be ripping the shirt, and she just _loves_ how those pants do wonders for his backside. His skin has gotten tanner within the months of winter drawing close, and just the thought of getting to go to bed with him tonight . . . hopefully the inn will remain as quiet as it is tonight.

Farkas being with her is one of the few that has made this running around worthwhile. To wake up every morning with him in her bed, he'll never understand the constant relief and happiness it gives her. To know that he wasn't some conjuration of her wishful thinking, to know that he is real and that he actually loves her . . .

She still has not heard from him about what could happen if, and when, she takes up her throne. Probably for her own benefit since he has so much compressing upon her shoulders as it is. He would be a good king, and he is more than like a second half of her being. And a marriage between a pure-blood Nord and a Snow Elf could be a historic event made for the books. Oh, she can't afford to think about this now.

Her focus needs to be on the vampire menace and their little "artifact" that's hiding down in Dimhollow Crypt. They heard about it while in Shor's Stone, and while hesitant, Farkas let her take the horses they had and run towards the still-gathering fort.

When she returned, he was still awake, but barely able to keep his eyes open. Her feet and fingers were aching from scaling the buildings of Fort Dawnguard, and wasn't in the mood to be lectured about her safety. So she merely kissed him and they both collapsed into the bed. In the morning, they discussed what she had learned. Farkas suggested they ally with the Dawnguard, but Erelia is strict on who exactly they reveal her to, and with obvious and good reason.

In truth, the Dawnguard probably don't give two rats' asses about her and her existence, the vampires being their priority. Be that as it may, it's better to keep cautious.

"Have you figured anything out?" Farkas asks as he brings over two mugs.

"More like I'm just sitting trying to look like I'm busy." Erelia sighs as she stretches.

Farkas chuckles as he sets down the mugs and takes the seat next to her. He kisses her cheek and leans in to see her work. "So what have you decided?"

"That we should've left Whiterun once we had a solid plan and a place to go." Rubbing her forehead, she twines some strands of her black hair – the sight itself jarring her heart for the briefest moment. She still hasn't bothered to cut it, having a love-hate relationship with it. she loved the length and the possibilities of styles she could do, but in battles and fights, it could be a large source of hindrance. Her black braid reaches all the way down to her backside when she sits. "I was a fool to just leave on impulse. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake."

"Hey don't say that." Farkas says, his large hand resting on her knee beneath the table. "We have the resources; we just need to pick a place to start."

"But where?"

"Let's see," Farkas moves his chair closer to hers, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to properly shelter them from the rest of the inn. He speaks in an expertly quiet tone. "We need to find your great-grandfather's bow, which has been lost since the fall of the Snow Elves. And since we can't just find it and go, we've taken up the interest of the Dawnguard. But we're reluctant to join, since we can't risk exposure. Perhaps this would make a lot more sense if you told me why we're following vampires."

Fiddling with the end of her braid, Erelia points to an empty section of the map, just off the coast of Solitude. Somewhere within was the supposed location of the knight-paladin who was giving information to the rebels of Skyrim. "I had a friend, whose parents delved in the worship of Daedra." She says with equal quiet. "Her father and mother didn't get along well, and she would often stay with our family. And then she just, disappeared, before the slaughter of the Snow Elves. And I never saw her again."

"You think she could still be alive?" A not-so-confidant shrug of her shoulders. "Why don't we just track down the knight-paladin?"

Erelia grabs the mug and takes a sip. The mead was good, and had a little mixture of spices in it. "Because he won't be so forthcoming with information, especially about disclosing his location. Snow Elf knight-paladins are trained to cover their tracks and hide into nonexistence. They're trained since they are younglings, and built into the greatest warriors in history. No offense."

Farkas just smiles and kisses her shoulder. On killing fields, sometimes they would fake deaths and go undercover in disguise to infiltrate and gain information. A fact she learned while listening in on her uncle, the Captain of the Guard at the time, discussing strategies against the Nords.

Farkas takes a swig from his mug. "I still don't understand how vampirism has to do with finding your father's bow."

Erelia shakes her head. She then flips towards the back of her journal and pulls out the map of the rebel camps she traded from a former Guild Member. Traded for both three bags of gold, and for her life. Carefully she unfolds it and splays it across the other map. Farkas looks over his shoulder and finds the barkeep distracted with wiping the counter, and the bard has just started to play her lute.

"There's a camp not too far from Ivarstead, perhaps we could go there and ask if they've gotten any more reports. And who knows, maybe they've gained more information than the Dawnguard."

Farkas gives her a sidelong glance. "I feel like you know what you're doing, you're just not telling me everything for gods know what reason."

Erelia gives a small smile. "Because I'm just going off of hunches here, which isn't exactly wise and smart, since our safety means so much more now than ever."

"Starting with the rebels seems like the safest and smartest choice. And perhaps we could gather some of their members to scour the caves with us." Farkas says, leaning back and lowering his arm. "Now, why don't we take a break and we can finish thinking in the morning."

"Alright." Erelia sighs. "Besides, your stink is starting to rot my brain."

Erelia almost regrets the words as she hears Farkas rise from his seat. She can only gather her notes and papers and stuff them into the back of the journal before Farkas reaches down and heaves her up across his shoulders. Squealing and giggling, Erelia smacks his back, ordering him to put her down. She looks to the barkeep and the bard, both trying to suppress their laughs. She calls for their help, but the barkeep insists it's already a lost cause.

Erelia promises to have their pillows filled with horse dung by the morning for their abandonment.

Farkas carefully carries her into their room, the biggest one in the inn – complete with its own bathroom attached. Erelia manages to toss her journal onto the table set against the wall adjacent to the bed, and begins to struggle more as Farkas approaches the bathroom.

" _Don't you dare_." She growls, barely noticeable past her squealing. But Farkas purposely hops, sending her jostling upwards for a moment. At some point, he had already drawn the water and the tub now smells of vanilla and coconut. "Farkas!"

Farkas leans forward over the tub and Erelia's braid falls over and its tip dips into the water. Smoothly and gently, Farkas slings her off and into the water. It splashes and sloshes everywhere, and Erelia breaches the surface seconds later, wiping her face and blinking. It's a good thing she doesn't wear makeup.

Her clothes are soaked and sticking around her chest and hips. She looks to Farkas, pushing loose wet strands out of her face. "You'll suffer for this." She grits through a grin.

"Now you have a good reason to take off your clothes." He says with a quirk of his lips. "They needed a good wash anyway."

Faster than he can stop her, Erelia's hand snaps out and grabs him by the collar of his tunic. More water splashes everywhere, and she makes sure he doesn't smack his head into the faucet as he falls in. He's laughing as he adjusts himself, his head hanging over the edge.

Erelia splashes him and he shakes his head, coughing and wheezing. Erelia giggles as Farkas finishes, and he then looks to her. "I could've died you know." He smirks.

"No. I would never allow that to happen." She says sweetly, caressing Farkas' cheek.

The former-Companion leans into her hand and reaches out his own to brush his callus knuckles across her cheek, the cheek holding the long scar that trails from the tip of her temple and down to level with her lip line. The scar inflicted upon her by Diamond after the death of her beloved Harbinger, and one of the few men Erelia had planned on making a part of her court, Kodlak Whitemane.

Self-conscious, Erelia leans away. Farkas' hand finds her anyway, and feelings his fingertips brush the risen skin feels, odd . . . and wrong. She's supposed to be beautiful, and with this scar ruins her own mental image of being queen. Then again, it's not like has been actively attempting to get it healed. A part of her thought that she had deserved, because a dark part of her still thinks it was her fault that Kodlak had gotten killed in the first place.

"Erelia." Farkas whispers.

Hearing her name on his lips – her real name – she looks to him with wide eyes. It still takes her by surprise to hear him call her name whenever he can. But even more so, it makes her heart feel lighter every time he does, to have him know who she really is, and to know he still loves her even when she is not Libitania Desidenius.

"You are the most beautiful creature that I have ever come to know." He smiles. "I've told you before, and I will tell you again, and I will keep telling you: I love you. No matter who, or what you are."

Erelia smiles and gives a breath of a laugh. "Since when did you become so sly with words?"

"I always have been. You just haven't been paying attention."

A roll of her eyes. "Of course, it's always my fault."

Farkas grins and leans in, and Erelia sighs as his lips meet hers. With the water blanketing them in warmth, it's almost immediate that they reach for each other's clothes. With skilled hands, they each undo ties, loosen strings and roll up the fabrics, tossing them into the sink next to the tub.

Her hands stroke along Farkas' skin and she squeaks as he adjusts the two of them, so she is sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips. Kissing his lips, she runs her fingers gently through his hair to push it back. His strong arms wrap around her bare, soaked torso and easily starts to unbraid her hair. Passion molding their lips to one another Farkas urges forward, making her angle back until her back presses against the cold marble of the tub. She gasps and Farkas leans down to kiss her neck. Erelia giggles and glides her hands down his massive back. Her hair is loosened and pools around them.

"Now," she coos seductively. "let's see if we can do something about the smell in your hair."

Farkas growls, but still smiling. She leaves the tub and grabs one of the hair oils in the small cabinet next to the tub. "Let's see, we have: coconut, jasmine, lavender, oh! – or sweet mountain rose."

Another growl and Erelia laughs again.

"You really are no better than a dog."

She saunters back over to the tub, sitting at the head with Farkas facing away from her. He plays with the length of her hair while she massages his scalp until it is covered in suds. Peeking over her shoulder she can see the lines of her tattoo. Her dedication to her family, to her people. Farkas has his hands relax along the edges and leans back into her.

Bathing together like this, they have done it before, in Erelia's mansion before it had gotten burned to the ground. Yet there's still some form of intimacy that will never deteriorate; and frankly she hopes it never does. She's never been intimate with someone like this before. Then again, Farkas is her first for everything. For love, for intimacy and for loyalty.

"Are you sure you're alright, beloved?" she suddenly asks, the motion of her hands slowing.

Farkas angles his head slightly to look at her. "Can I ask why you're asking the same question?"

A slight huff. "I just . . . the feeling of guilt still shadows me."

"I told you already; everything's fine."

"But your brother –"

"He will understand. They all will understand once they figure it out."

Erelia is silent for a moment, her heart stammering every time she thinks about the result once Diamond and the others figure out the meaning of the code she left on the note. If her thinking is correct, Nassari should've been the one to find the note.

Gods, what would happen? What will they think? Will Diamond be mad?

Erelia's heart still aches when she thinks of the fact that she left again, just when she and Diamond had rekindled their friendship. The very thought made her cry for the first four days of their leaving Whiterun. The night they left, Erelia wanted the city to be completely out of sight. She couldn't deal with the pain of just seeing the city where Diamond lived. What would happen if they saw each other again?

"Are _you_ alright, dear?" Farkas asks as he makes a mustache out of the ends of her hair.

Erelia chuckles. "Yes. Just thinking too much."

"I thought the whole point of the bath was to _relax_."

"Funny." Erelia says, giving a slight tug of his hair. "I don't believe you're in a position to argue, Sir Farkas."

"Then may I ask what it is you're thinking about?"

"Dunk, first." She orders, and Farkas holds his breath and slips under the surface of the water, leaving a small glob of suds behind. He resurfaces and floats his head as Erelia scrubs the oil free. "Do you believe joining the Dawnguard will be beneficial to us?"

"How so?"

"We could use their resources, their weapons and armor, and it might be a better place to stay than just traveling. I miss coming back to only one home."

"Didn't you say the fort is still in means of repair?"

"On the inside it could use one hell of a dusting, but just how big it is and the way it's built, inside a secluded valley – it might be the safest place for us."

Farkas lifts from the water and pushes his hair back, then grabs the bar of soap and a loofa. "And what seems to be holding you back?"

Without being told, Erelia turns her back towards him, still self-conscious about her scars, despite the beautiful tattoo she had marked over them in the Ancient Language of her people. "I don't know if I should go as myself, or if I dare go as Libitania."

"How willing do you think this Isran will want to have an ex-assassin joining his honorable vampire slayers?" he asks as she feels the loofa touch her skin, tentatively.

"Probably more than he would want an illusory queen."

Farkas pauses and she swallows. "What do you mean, dear?"

Another swallow and suddenly her eyes are welling with tears. She sniffs. "I've been thinking about this for the longest time, probably since I first joined the Faceless: How am I ever going to save my people from the savagery that has claimed, and dare I say, saved them all these years? What if I can never undo what has become of them? I will have no kingdom, no court, no title and no meaning. My whole life I've been trying to find the solution, but there's nothing. I will not abandon them, but what will I do if I can't save them?"

She feels Farkas' hand lower from her back. Then his heavy hand wraps around her shoulders and his lips kiss the tip of her shoulder. "I don't have any easy answers, Erelia. But I'm willing to look and to discover as well as you. The only thing I can say is to not give up, and stay hopeful."

A simple nod is all she gives, and she remains quiet for the rest of the bath.

Once they're both rinsed and toweled themselves dry, Farkas gives Erelia one of his clean shirts. She carries their basket of dirty clothes out to the main lobby, ready to deliver them to the seamstress, until she is intercepted by the female bard.

"My lady, please allow me."

Erelia knew her as Lynly Star-Sung, a woman of exquisite talent and former lover of Sibi Black-Briar. She first found her when Sibi promised her a reward for tracking her down, but once she did, hearing the woman plead to her, begging her for savior, Erelia gave Sibi a false location and alias name. The woman was much more believable than any Black-Briar.

"Oh, Lynly. No, that's alright."

"I insist, My Lady. You are welcome here whenever you like." She says, taking the basket from Erelia without argument. When she speaks, her voice has grown so much more quiet. "And besides, it is not often we have a queen spending the nights with us."

Erelia freezes, her hand loose at her side, but aching to reach for her dagger. Her heart pounds, but she swallows and maintains composure. It's Lynly's face – which shows honor and fascination – that hasn't made Erelia slice her throat.

"How did you –"

"Forgive me, My Lady," Lynly says with a slight bow. "I saw you when you came home late one night, and I was emptying the garbage cans out back."

Erelia trails her eyes all up and down, and she can see Lynly's demeanor change from the intimidation. She would have nothing to gain if she told the guards about where she is, and she could always tell Sibi where she was, and Lynly knew that as well. Even if Libitania did lie to Sibi, there's no way in hell he would be stupid enough to come after Skyrim's Assassin.

"You know you can't tell them." Erelia says with a face of stone.

"Of course not."

"I might have retired my name as assassin, but I am not afraid to still kill."

"Please, please understand My Lady I would never do such a thing. I believe Skyrim needs you." Lynly says as she sets the basket on the bar counter. She then pulls up the cuff of her tunic sleeve, and reveals to her a tattoo secretly etched on her wrist.

It was in the style of the Falmer Language, and it read her name.

It's not in the Ancient Language, and it's nothing permanent like Erelia's, but something she wrote personally with her own pen, something she wrote repeatedly whenever it fades. The symbol of the rebels.

Erelia's eyes flick back to Lynly and finds truth in her eyes, and due to her heightened smell, Lynly's fear is pungent. She's telling the truth.

"Very well. Don't make me regret my decision."

"I won't, My Lady, and I can prove it."

"How?" Erelia leans against the bar counter with Lynly, making it look like two friends engaged in conversation. Lynly takes the basket and rests it against her hip. Both speak with equal, expert quiet.

"I got word that some Stormcloaks are coming to town from their camp. The camp is rather far off, but they'll be arriving in town in the next two days." Lynly says.

"Looking for me specifically?"

"I presume they just want supplies, but you might be the next thing on their list."

Erelia looks out to the empty tavern, as if she can see beyond the walls and out into the town and forest beyond. "Thank you. We will be gone before morning."

"Be safe." Lynly bows slightly again and takes the basket of laundry. "I'll try and put them to your rooms."

Erelia nods and quietly pads to her room while Lynly goes downstairs. She enters her room, locking and bolting the doors. Farkas doesn't ask questions. She might be at conflict with both parties of Skyrim's Civil War, but her true fight is with the Stormcloaks. The people who murdered her race, the ones who destroyed her family. She will see to it that Ulfric dies by her naked blade.

As Erelia climbs into bed with Farkas, his protective arm wrapping around her, she already knew she wouldn't be sleeping tonight. She keeps her dagger close to her side.

It's only a matter of hours later that Erelia's eyes open at the sound of someone walking outside their rooms.


	4. Chapter 3

The day was stretching on, and despite not seeing any sunlight in her chambers, Diamond knew it had to be near eleven o'clock.

She could hear the footsteps, the clinking of silverware, the muffled chatter of the other members above. This is the latest she's slept, and it didn't help that a body corded in muscle and pitch-black ink lying next to her. Lying on his side, his tattoo curling and winding down his left arm and across his chest, Malick breaths calmly, his face softened into handsomeness.

Diamond rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, the light of the hall sconces trying to pry through the crevice of the doors. Her limbs feel like lead and she finds it hard to move herself. She can still see the words as if they are engraved everywhere she looks.

Libby is the lost Queen of the Snow Elves.

Libby isn't even her name. It's Erelia Glendeylin. Erelia Desidenius Glendeylin.

A Queen. A lost Queen. _Queen_.

Gods, the idea still turns her stomach and sends goosebumps across her skin. Every time she goes over that fact, her mind goes back far into all of the time they spent together. The first time they met, the way they would fight, the times they talked, the times they ate together. The missions they went on, the arguments they sometimes had.

Some part of her is in denial, saying that it isn't real. That Libby can't be Erelia. There's no way that Diamond could believe that she – out of everyone there was in Skyrim – could have ever been best friends with the lost queen of the Snow Elves for years.

Years she went undiscovered. Years she had kept this secret, guarding it with her life. She never told Diamond, and it angers her; yet she can completely understand why. Zusa had to have known who she was, from the moment she found Lib – Erelia, down by the river. Thank the gods Libby took care of her.

It just doesn't seem real. She can't picture Libby as a queen. She can't even believe that Libby is Erelia. She has known Libby as _Libby_. She looks like a Libby, she acts like a Libby.

But most of all, a queen doesn't kill. The way that she kills . . . there's no way Libby can be a queen.

Tears begin to form in Dimaond's eyes. She has seen Libby kill before. The fact and ideas and skill she holds, it's very unqueen-like. Libby belches heavily, she swears like a sailor on the sea, and she can handle blades like they are extensions of her arms. She knew how to skin a man clean, and keep him alive while doing so.

But the kills, Diamond has seen the darkest parts of Libby, the most ferocious, the deadliest and the most terrifying. And a queen, a queen has composure, grace and poise, and Libby –

No, she has seen the way Libby walks, the way she can talk herself out of any situation, stay calm in the most frantic of situations. Perhaps that was bits and pieces of her that Diamond never noticed.

A hand suddenly caresses her hair and Diamond turns to find Malick awake, his sapphire eyes blinking slowly. Diamond almost gasps, halting herself and exhaling to relax her frayed nerves.

"You were thinking about her, weren't you?" he asks, his voice soft and gruff. Gods above.

Diamond gives a slow nod. Malick opens his arms and despite her heart stammering and her cheeks reddening, she scoots herself into his warmth, shivering when he cocoons her. "What do you want to do?" he asks.

"What is there _to_ do?"

She doesn't know. What kind of question is that? Libby and Farkas left the hall nearly three weeks to this day. And none of them have bothered to go after them, because who would watch the hall while she – the new Harbinger – is away, first of all. Second, where would they even find her? And third, do they even have the right to go? This war is hers, and while she told Diamond what she is and what she's doing, The Companions have never been one to get involved into politics.

A part of her so badly wants to find her, just to know that her friend is still alright. And yes, perhaps a part of her longs to go on yet another adventure; to join Libby – Erelia – and face off against forces and to be a part of the rift that could change Skyrim and its history.

She knew in her heart that, Erelia, deserved to be on the High Throne. She's always had the potential to lead despite her arguments. No one is better suited; no one is better understanding than her.

Still it does so little to ease the flood of questions and realizations that swamp her head so much it begins to ache.

"I'm not completely opposed to staying in bed all day." Malick says with a grin.

Diamond smiles, her cheeks warming. Malick has been staying at Jorrvaskr ever since Libby left, and she is ever grateful. She doesn't know what she would do without him, without his support. She had before, and barely made it out.

Malick is a retired members of a faction of assassins that has since been eliminated, The Faceless. Once rivaling the Dark Brotherhood, of which has faced extinction as well, The Faceless took Skyrim by storm, their cause claiming to be avengers of women in the culture of Skyrim. While their effort is valiant, their leader – spectral of a goddess – Zusa Phoenix – was a sadistic and corrupted woman who treated her assassins well, but more like her own property.

Diamond can still feel the fear of encountering Zusa, feel the abuse that the other members might've endured. She had imprisoned Diamond in her, lovely, home on a deal that she at least attempts to give The Faceless a chance. Little did she know just how crazy Zusa was. Upon her attempt to escape, Zusa had slammed Diamond's face into a mirror, broke her wrist with her heel and even kissed her.

Diamond shivers and Malick holds her tighter. Malick was one of the two insurgent assassins that had helped her escaped the Faceless, but the only one to survive. There was another assassin Veera, with hair of blue waters and a spirit of fire. She had sacrificed herself for Diamond, and she thought Malick had too. She witnessed the battle that had taken place, Malick could've killed her, but she ran before she saw the end result.

In the end, it had all been a waste. Astrid, her former master, had betrayed her from false accusations of Zusa, and in turn Commander Marro destroyed the Brotherhood's existence from Skyrim. Later on, Diamond repaid his favor in kind, gutting him and dumping his body in the river.

Then through her years, Diamond had done nothing with herself, consuming vast amounts of wine and ale just to hide away from the endless abyss that threatened to swallow her whole. She had lost everything, physically and emotionally. And at the time, Libby was a part of it.

Her home was gone, her friends burned alive. She thought Zusa had killed Malick, but even worse, she kept him prisoner. Tortured him and mauled him in an attempt to break his will into submission. But she didn't succeed, and it wasn't until recent months ago did they reunite; both different people from before. And with the recent events that have unfolded before them, she's ever grateful for his support.

If only it didn't affect the way Vilkas constantly looks at her. What she thought she wanted with Vilkas, she was only using as a substitute for Malick. It didn't take until she had them side by side to realize this. And while her heart aches for Vilkas, she knew all along no one would ever compare to Malick.

"Is it really even my place to participate in this?" Malick looks to her confused. "I mean, this is Lib – Erelia's battle. She's the one who will take down Ulfric Stormcloak, but she'll also be aiming to unbind the alliance between the Imperials and the Thalmor. Whether that makes her an enemy of the Imperials, I don't know. But they will see it as a risk."

"I don't see the problem in helping her. I would think that just because the Harbinger took a stance doesn't mean that it's the same for all of the Companions. But further still, it would seem that all of your members had a liking towards Erelia, and would be more than willing to fight for her."

"Yet taking a stance in an Imperial city could be risky. I don't know what Jarl Balgruuf will do. And even if I were to go after her, I wouldn't know where to find her or think about who I would leave in charge of Jorrvaskr while I'm gone." She sighs. "At least, someone who's not opinionated."

"Well, to be fair, you've only been Harbinger for three weeks now, and I doubt the news has spread towards the rests of Skyrim. Let alone would they care about it." He grins, and Diamond bumps her elbow into his ribs. "Perhaps they wouldn't know it was you. Maybe it's time to bring back the cloaks and shadows."

The idea is, frightful. She hasn't worn a cloak since her days in the Brotherhood. The idea of going back to what she was, she knew he didn't mean like that, but she always associated hoods and shadows with assassins, and she's a warrior of honor now.

Yet, it's not like she's going back to her assassin days, Malick is simply suggesting they start sneaking around to help Erelia instead of open exposure. In her heart, it still doesn't feel right. Kodlak didn't like sneaking around, he made that clear when he caught Diamond and Aela exterminating the Silver Hand. But would he understand the risks involved with this, and why she would?

She just so badly wants to see Libby again, and yes, a part of her would be thrilled to be a part of the change in Skyrim; have her name be the one of many who helped put Erelia on the High Throne. She wants to be a part of the thrill, but war can also come with consequences. She's heard the stories told by Kodlak and Vignar, and it's a miracle they're still sane after everything they've witnessed. Then again, they are Nords, and Nords crave the heat of war, many prepared from birth to give their lives in battle.

"I don't know if I can." Diamond mumbles shamefully.

"Why?"

She pauses for a moment. "It's just, I have so many negative associations with it that, it would feel wrong to go back to it. Especially now with what I've gained here."

"I'm not saying we go back and kill, but if you really want to help Erelia as much as you claim, then it'd be safer to go undercover so that no one recognizes you as the Harbinger."

"Kodlak wouldn't approve of sneaking around." She counters. "He would want me to be proud of my position. He would want me to help her."

"Then what's stopping you?"

Diamond shrugs. "The risk I'll be putting upon the Companions? My own capability?"

"I'll buy that last one." Another elbow to his ribs. Malick chuckles and adjusts himself so he's sitting upright, back pressed against the wooden headboard. "Look Diamond, you're their Harbinger, you know that they would be more than happy to follow you and to help Erelia, and Kodlak would want you to help her too. Yes, you can have doubts, everyone does, but that shouldn't stop you. Is there something else you're not telling me?"

Surprisingly, Diamond smiles and giggles sadly. "I guess I'm losing my touch."

"You can't lose what you never had." This time he predicted her jab and caught her elbow. He traces his hand down her arm until his fingers lace with hers and he brings her hand up to kiss the back. "So what is it?"

A moment of silence to gather her thoughts. "As stupid as it may sound, I guess in a way, if I were too help Erelia with the war and her movement, it's like me accepting who she really is. And it would be, odd and perhaps difficult. I've known her for my entire life as Libtiania, and while I'm not mad at her for keeping this secret from me, a part of me just isn't ready to accept it that my best friend is the lost queen of the Snow Elves. It still doesn't seem real."

"That's perfectly understandable. It was all a shock to us when we found out."

It's true. Nassari broke down in tears, collapsing to the carpet and sobbing. Malick had to sit in a chair and Diamond got violently sick, ever grateful the skirts of the princess's dress didn't permeate in her puddle of vomit. They didn't tell the rest of the members, the only other people who know are Aela and Vilkas. All members of the Circle.

Kodlak had to have known too; he just had to. He probably knew the moment he laid eyes on her, and it explains why he let her into the Companions. He had to have known she was lost, just like Diamond. Maybe he planned the whole thing from the beginning of taking Libby in. Once he found out about their past history, he might've connived everything for the girls to be together again.

She has still yet to read his journal, even if she already knew what it might contain. It still felt rather off limits to her.

Unable to take the confines of her room, she wriggles herself free of Malick and finally stands from the bed. Walking over to the wardrobe she knew Malick was watching her but kept her focus on gathering her clothes for the day.

She looks over her shoulder to find his tattooed torso exposed, the blanket seductively covering low on his waist. A sly smile.

"If you want to join me, please come. But fully clothed."

A casual shrug of his broad shoulders. Gods, it's like the Divines took careful time to carve out every piece of Malick until he was perfection personified. She still can't believe that she actually allowed herself to sleep with Malick – not like that, but maybe . . .

 _This is not the time to think about that_! – she screams at herself.

Hurrying herself out, she only glimpses at the stack of books and scattered papers still on Kodlak's desk. No one bothered to move or touch them since they found out who Libby really it. Not in the sense that it's treasured information, but out of fear of what it holds.

Making her way up towards the dining room, Diamond rubs her arm as a chill sends goose bumps crawling. She carefully listens to the chatter as she enters and thankfully it doesn't quiet down as much as she assumed. Members do look to her and give her nervous smiles, but Diamond just nods and takes her seat.

Helping herself to some of the bread and tea, she takes a large munch and tears the bread. There's some chuckles and the conversations resume. Sitting next to Ria, Diamond asks her to pass the plate of sweet rolls.

"Isn't it a little early for sweets?" she smiles.

Diamond holds up a finger, giving her time to finish chewing before she says, "Excuse me, but I believe that _I_ am the Harbinger here."

Ria laughs, and covers her lips with her hand. "So this is how you plan to use your newfound title?"

"Until I am stuffed like a turkey." Diamond grins.

Torvar comes up on her right and takes a seat, a goblet of ale in his hand. "Hey champ. How're you holding up?"

"And there goes my good mood."

"I'm sorry hun, but I just have to ask. It's not every day someone finds out they've been best friends with a long-lost queen."

"Torvar!" Aela snaps. Sitting next to her is Vilkas, vigilant and focused on Diamond.

Diamond holds up her hand. "It's alright." She mumbles. It really isn't – and while she would not have picked a morning of all places to have such a discussion, it's better to get it out of the way while everyone is refreshed. Then perhaps they can distract themselves from the topic for the rest of the day. "I guess I would say I'm . . . okay. But it still really hasn't clicked yet."

"I can understand." Ria suddenly chimes. "It's still a shock, and it raises so many more questions. Now whenever I picture her face, it's just, unimaginable to think; and to believe." She directs her attention to the rest of the members. "We all were living and interacting with the Queen of the Snow Elves!"

"There were also some, who weren't oh-so-nice to our future queen." Torvar says, daring to shoot a look at Aela and Vilkas and Njada. "I wonder if she holds grudges."

Despite the fun Diamond is having at seeing the fear etch on Njada's face, she quickly dismisses. "Libby isn't one to hold grudges."

"You mean Erelia?" Torvar corrects.

"Whatever." Diamond snaps.

"Pardon my morbid curiosity, but I love going through the facts and aligning them with our experiences with Her Highness: she had been a slave in Cidhna Mines, she was Skyrim's most feared assassin. She stayed right here in this hall, and befriended Princess Nassari."

"She was also witness to the extermination of her own kind." says Athis, staring into his bowl of soup, his hand swirling the wine in his goblet. Diamond could tell what he was thinking, any Mer could understand. "I can't even imagine what she witnessed. But to have her parents murdered on her birthday . . . and then there's the fall of her brother, the Snow Prince. Her family butchered, and is now the last surviving member of the Glendeylin line."

"Sometimes I wonder if she is immortal as some say. We knew her father as Gallus, and her mother is Aurora, the pure-blood Snow Elf; but did she inherit the genetics of her mother?"

"It would appear so." says Vilkas. "Given the era that the Snow Elves lived, Erelia would have to be at least four thousand years old."

"Huh. She doesn't look a day over twenty." Torvar amuses, with little to no feedback.

Diamond's hear sinks while Ria continues to carry on vocalizing her fascination. With so much happening, she didn't give one thought about Libby's immortality.

 _Erelia_! She screams in her head. _It's Erelia_!

If Erelia is allegedly four thousand years old now, there's no denying that she's inherited the immortality of her mother, her age process slower than most humans do. Snow Elves were said to be the only kind of elf that still preserves the immortality of the gods, given to them by Auri-El. She's seen the elders of Dunmer, Bosomer, and Thalmor. They all age just like mortals.

But a Snow Elf . . . and _immortal_ Snow Elf on the High Throne of Skyrim . . .

Diamond almost wants to cry. She'll die while Libby still lives, and will be living for who knows how long. She will stay young, sitting by her bedside while Diamond will be an old woman with grey hair and barely any strength to lift her arms. It's sad and it worries her; all the more reason to try and spend so much time with Libby as she can. Maybe it'll also help her come to better terms with this whole lost queen situation.

As she takes a sip of her tea, Diamond's eyes flick to the corner of the room, near the living quarters and spots a flash of blonde. Malick comes up the steps and Diamond takes a deep breath to prepare herself for the palpable tension. Her eyes find Vilkas and sure enough he's already looking at Malick, eyebrows narrowed and a subtle expression of hatred etched on his features. If Malick notices, he doesn't care.

He didn't bother to put on a shirt like she suggested, so his torso bares his detailed tattoo, a large portion of it either gone or disfigured due to a massive scar that comes up from his side and crosses his torso almost to his left pectoral. The one of many results of Zusa's horrible torture upon him. A visual representation of what he had endured.

The eyes of all female members follow him, and some of the men. Diamond finds his eyes and he smirks, knowing very damn well that the hell he's doing. She almost squeaks when his one hand grabs the back of her chair, the other rest on her upper thigh and leans in to place a kiss on her cheek.

Taking a deep breath and trying to avoid Vilkas' glare, one that threatens to burn a hole through her skull, Diamond resumes sipping her tea. Malick sits next to her and plucks an apple from the bowl. "Good morning to you all." he says with a sly grin. When no one replies, he continues on with, "Wow, if this is the greetings you all gave to Erelia, I can see why she wasn't well acquainted with everyone."

"It would seem out respected guild is going to the assassins." Vilkas says, the dare in his tone setting Diamond on the edge of her seat.

" _Former_ Assassin." Malick emphasizes, taking a big bite of the apple. "And don't be so bitter. Who knows, maybe I'm the lost prince of some secret society."

Everyone tenses, and eyes widen, but Malick coldly chuckles.

"I'm not."

"That's not exactly funny, Malick." Diamond says.

"I'm sorry." he chuckles. "So, might I ask what everyone was talking about?"

"The expected." Diamond answers, setting down her cup of tea.

Malick sits up and finishes his apple before grabbing another. "And?"

"Just trying to sort out our thoughts." Ria finishes, looking rather nervous – and not in the result of fear. Diamond keeps her eyes on her. "Or more like coming to term with everything that's happened. It just doesn't seem real."

"Well, all we can do now is believe it." Malick quickly dismisses. "What about you?"

Diamond was fiddling with her teacup when he asked so it takes her a moment to realize he was talking to her. "Oh, sorry." she mumbles. "I, I'm coming to terms with it."

"Look Diamond, stop beating around the bush." Malick suddenly snaps. He leans forward in his chair and chucks the apple at her. Diamond manages to catch it, but bits of the apple hit her in the forehead. "If you want to help Erelia then just tell me and we can pack our things and leave."

"You want to help Erelia?" Vilkas asks, but Diamond is so focused on Malick that she barely hears it.

"Even if we leave then what, Malick?! We don't even know where she is and how to find her! And I don't even know if she _wants_ to me come and find her! If she wanted me to even be a part of this whole situation, she would've asked me to come along! But she didn't, she just left."

"You've known Erelia for _years_."

"No. I've known Libby for years."

"So just because you found out who she really is, your past with her suddenly means nothing anymore? Just like before? Do you not want to help Erelia because she kept another secret from you?"

"No, it's not like that!"

"It's exactly like that."

"No it's not!" Diamond yells, slamming her fist against the table, rattling the contents. "Yes I might be mad that she didn't tell me who she is, but I understand why. It was her life on the line if she told me." Sighing, nearly on the verge of tears, she takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her hair, of which is now touching her shoulders. "I am having a difficult time seeing her ass Erelia yes; I've known her as Libitania all my life. It's just difficult to picture her as possible High Queen; but it's not out of fear, I guarantee that. Some of the things we've done, the things I've seen her done – whether that'd be skinning a man alive or just belching loudly at an inn – it was so un-queen like of her."

"Perhaps back then even she was trying to abandon who she really was." Malick says, his voice much softer. Diamond has the nerve to look at him again, and his eyes are hard like the gem they represent, but his features are soft. "You were both different back then, way different. But I know in your heart you want to help Erelia, because that's the part of you that is still dedicated to your friendship."

Diamond is quiet, swirling the remainder of her tea. A part of her heart with always belong to Libby, and only Libby. But perhaps . . . perhaps she could share it with Erelia. They are the same person, but yet they're not. Erelia had tried so hard to abandon who she was that she took on another identity entirely. Restyled and trained as an assassin by Zusa.

She could never associate Libby with being the last remainder of Zusa and her exterminated guild of Faceless Assassins. That would be like making her an enemy, and Diamond doesn't want to do that again.

Spending more time with Erelia would be beneficial in helping her accept that this is still her friend whom she's been with for ages, but she only wished it was under the circumstances of going shopping or having tea; not standing back to back to each other on a battlefield.

"Diamond!" Vilkas shouts, scaring her out of her thoughts. She looks over to him and his face is close to being red. "Do you really want to help Erelia?"

Just that quick, an anger that she hasn't felt in ages lunges up, but Diamond grabs the leash and yanks it back. She takes a slow, deep breath. "And what if I do Vilkas, what will you do?"

His lips fall into a thin line and he swallows. Her grip on the leash loosens.

"Do you really not want me to help her? I thought the Companions didn't care for politics."

"It's not that we didn't care," Torvar chimes. "It's just there was never really a reason to think about it. We were, and still are our own guild or society, if that's the right term."

"So you're just scared to get involved in politics?" says Malick. "How do you think Erelia felt? She's the heir to a lost generation, she would inherit an entire country's burdens if and _when_ she wins this war."

"When did you become so involved in politics, Malick?" Diamond challenges. "You only found out who she was just like us."

Without hesitation, he answers, "I've been a supporter of Erelia since the first rumor of her existence reached my ears. A Snow Elf as High Queen, with the history they have I was reluctant, but after finding out it was Libitania, after going having my own time to process things: Ulfric is a racist bastard drunk for power, and Elisif doesn't know what the hell she's doing. Erelia is the perfect person to rule Skyrim."

Jealousy now replaces the dangerously calm anger inside Diamond. She almost wants to slap herself. There's no way at this point that Malick could ever fall for Erelia; not with the burden she has of inheriting the throne.

"Even if we decided to track her down, can I afford to leave the Companions? Who would I leave in charge?"

"Not Vignar." Njada says with certainty. "That old man will talk our ears off, and maybe even use us against Erelia."

"What about Brill?" suggests Ria.

"He follows that old man around like a lost dog." Athis says.

"Vignar has been here for ages." Vilkas defends.

"But he is a severe supporter of Ulfric and his Stormcloaks." Aela reminds. "I'd like to believe he wouldn't use us, but at the state the war is in now, I am not so sure."

"Eorlund?" asks Torvar.

"You mean the brother to Vignar? No." Njada disclaims. "He supports the Stormcloaks as well."

"How can they after what he's done? After what the Nords have done? Slaughtering race after race mercilessly." Ria snarls. "I'd love to see him on his knees in front of both Erelia and Princess Nassari."

"The princess," Alea whispers. "What about her?"

"She's probably too busy with the rebels. Her life is already on the line with what she's learning in Dragonsreach." Diamond waves off.

"She's also coming along on your little adventure."

Everyone freezes and heads whirl towards the front doors as Princess Nassari stands there, a sword strapped to her back and daggers at her waist. She's forsaken her beautiful dresses and obtained leather armor that hugs her figure. It's only through this does Diamond realize that she's very toned and possibly very strong. With her circlet still around her head, her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and braided down her back.

She steps down, and Diamond can see her feet are wrapped in leather instead of having shoes, exposing her clawed feet. Her tail gracefully moves back and forth; even that seems well controlled.

Diamond didn't realize that almost every part of the princess's body could be used as a lethal weapon. But Erelia probably did. How has the princess been handling things anyway? Probably better than the rest of them. It was her dream to meet Erelia, little did she know that it was the Snow Queen whom she had befriended and who had saved her life during an assassination attempt.

"Absolutely not." Vilkas immediately denies. "We cannot risk putting your life in danger, Your Highness."

"I've already put my life on the line in obtaining information for the rebels." Her accent has thinned in the months she's been in Whiterun, and due to lessons with Erelia. She pronounces everything nearly perfectly now. "This would be no different. And I won't be the burden you all think. Erelia taught me plenty of moves, in addition to what I've learned while in Elsweyr."

"But will it be enough, Your Highness?" Diamond asks, looking up at the princess. The princess rests her hand on the back of Diamond's chair.

"I can handle myself I promise you, Diamond." She purrs.

"I believe that, Your Highness, but what I mean is, are you prepared for what we see?" Diamond motions between her and Malick. Only he is the only other person besides Erelia that has witnessed and has done some of the most horrible things the gods could imagine. "I mean, that assassination attempt was just the tip of the iceberg, if at all. The things we've seen, the things we've done, it truly surprised me that you still wished to befriend Erelia."

"Everyone in their lifetime will do unforgivable things, I understand that. And this extends far past my life debt to her. I have seen whom she really is, and yes, it was scary, but the moments that we have shared, and what she represents . . . I'm not saying it justifies everything, but she did what she had to do to survive."

Before Diamond can extend on the topic, Princess Nassari's eyes flick to Malick, and quickly her anger returns when she finds a curious twinkle in the princess's eyes. She takes a step towards Malick.

"I don't think we've met before." She says.

Malick rises from his chair and bows low. "My name is Malick, Your Highness, and it's an honor to meet the princess of Elsweyr."

"Charmed." Nassari holds out her hand and Malick takes it with a good grip and shake. Diamond cannot express the relief that he didn't kiss it. "Quite the first impression." She says, motioning to his bare torso. His bare torso! His muscles and scars all revealed!

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but had I anticipated your visit I would've chosen my best tunic."

"You'd probably look best in everything, and nothing." She purrs. While Diamond fumes at the ears, Malick gives a bashful chuckle and thanks the princess for the compliment. Malick then politely excuses himself to go and put on a shirt. When the princess looks back to her, Diamond tries to neutralize her features. "He's incredibly handsome. You've done well for yourself."

"Thank you." She says almost too bluntly. "Now, about you coming along –"

"No disrespect, Harbinger, but I am the Princess of Elsweyr, and my decision overthrows any choice." The princess says, lifting her chin high. "I'm not going to be a burden to you. I can take care of myself. Erelia trusted me, don't you?"

"Of course Your Highness, but –"

"Then the decision is final." The princess says taking a seat in Malick's chair. "I'm glad we worked things out."

She reaches for a carrot and twirls it in her fingers before munching the end.

"So, when do we leave?"

"We can't leave without gathering some information first." Malick says and their heads turn to find him walking back towards the bed, just throwing a shirt over his head. Diamond appreciates the last few moments of seeing his abdomen before the shirt falls over. Without a word, he takes a seat next to the princess.

"Very well, and what kind of information do we need?"

"Well, we have you with information on the rebels, and I just think we need to gather information about Erelia's history before we depart. What exactly is she looking for, and how powerful is her magic and things that could benefit us."

"I suppose that would make sense. Once we leave, I doubt we'll be able to come back." The princess agrees.

Diamond is silent. There have been a few things that she's been wanting to know about: like how powerful her magic can be. She had only witnessed a small portion of what Erelia could possibly hold when they had breached the portal in the world of Oblivion.

Malick was right; in her heart she wanted to help Erelia, and she knew Skyrim needs her. But what exactly is it that makes her hesitate? Why is she reluctant to help? It can't be because of the war. Could it be like helping out a stranger? Perhaps. It's just hard to believe that all of the memories they shared, all of the tears and laughs and anger and hatred and joys is in Erelia Glendeylin.

She can get past it. She has to if she wants to keep her friendship alive.

She will help Erelia, and she will help her friend.

Her friend, and her Queen.


	5. Chapter 4

Erelia sprints down the barren street of Ivarstead, sheathing the bloodied dagger at her waist so not to leave a trail. Behind her she can hear the shouts and thundering hooves of the Stormcloaks in pursuit. She had already killed most of their members, and they didn't take too kindly to it. She can only hope that Farkas is leading the other half of the group to the opposite end of town, towards the foothill of the Throat of the World.

And hopefully Lynly will keep her promise of blaming a political brawl for the five bodies littering the tavern floor. Before the other soldiers arrived, Erelia and Farkas made sure to leave nothing behind.

The soldiers had stalked their way into the inn and didn't waste their time tracking her room, only sparing the owner the excuse of political business. It took them time to break through the blockade she made of the dresser and couple of chairs – long enough that Farkas had escaped through the secret door in the back with most of their belongings. When the guards finally broke down the door, the five were dead with arrows before she followed, a shadow in the darkened room.

Lynly's reward being a bag of gold for her services and warning, and a little extra for the damage and clean up. Erelia just wonders how long it will take her to notice the small pouch in her dress pocket filled to the brim with jeweled rings – each worth a small fortune.

Now she runs, all the people of Ivarstead asleep, thankfully not to caring about the ruckus of shouting men and pounding hooves. Soldiers passing through the city, uncaring of those trying to sleep, and nothing more.

With her immortal abilities, it was easy to run far, far ahead. Under the cover of night, the trees of the forest just over the bridge, she steps into the shadows and fades. The leaves quieting her feet, she doubles back and circles around the herd of five more Stormcloaks still thinking she is ahead.

Climbing a tree, she swings from one branch to another and stalks them until they come to a stop half a mile outside of Ivarstead. They huddle the horses and one speaks up, "Where did she go?!"

"Stupid elf, she probably ducked inside the shadows and hid. A coward like the rest."

Something cold, icy and ancient flows through her blood. Crouching on a branch just above the group, she draws her Nightingale bow – her gift from Karliah – and loads an arrow. Her heart pounds, thrumming through her, singing for justice. For vengeance.

With every Stormcloak she takes, she will avenge the lives of her people. Her beloved kingdom, slaughtered and burned to ashes. Not for her sake alone anymore, but for all that Ulfric and his soldiers have caused.

For Princess Nassari and her rebels, for her people and their children.

Erelia pulls back the string and fires.

The arrow flies and pierces through the helmet of the soldier closest to her, and he falls without a word.

The soldiers jolt and horses startle. "The damned bitch! She's still here!" screams the third.

As they're about to turn the horses, a large wall of fire erupts out of the ground, circling the men. When two of the horses rear, the men are thrown off and into the blaze. The flames devour them like maggots, their screams dulled in seconds. The horses run through the flames, untouched, and unharmed.

The two remaining soldiers draw their weapons, turning their horses within the circle. The steeds are to startled to do anything but whine with fear. Her heart aches, but her face remains placid and bored as she drops from the branch, just outside the ring of fire. There is plenty of room to move, and all grass and trees and flowers remain clean, untouched.

"You! Help us!" one soldier spits, though the other remains quiet.

Erelia blinks slowly, the ring of gold around her eyes as alive as the flames before her. Staring the soldiers, Erelia smiles grimly and slowly sheds her illusion skin.

Twinkling stars ripple across her, crawling all over her until her pointed ears are revealed, her smile become wicked with her elongated canines, and her hair color slowly recedes until it shines like the living moonlight.

The soldiers pale as the flame turns blue, the circle narrowing. The horses are stepping back, turning and whining. "Ulfric will be most pleased when I bring back your remains, princess." The one soldier spits.

"That is, if you live." She purrs. "Come down. Face me like the proud Nords you claim to be." As she speaks, she takes a step forward, the wall of flame parting for her until she's inside.

With a savage hunger, the one soldier dismounts – the other hesitant, the one who has remained uneasy since she killed the first soldier. The soldier of which she now pries her arrow from, sheathing it against her back without even cleaning it. The second soldier dismounts, his eyes on her wholly.

Erelia chuckles coolly. "See something you like? It has been so long since you've seen a pretty face such as mine." She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"It'll look even better when I see blood dribbling down your nose, you elven _bitch_!" the other soldier spits, readying his blade.

Erelia rolls her eyes. "You really need to think of better things to call me. They do get old you know."

"How about dead?" the soldier growls. He then charges, raising his sword above his head.

Erelia, with her hands folded behind her back steps aside with maddening ease. The soldier manages to stop himself before he falls into the flames. He turns to her and gives a battle cry as he charges again, and she still ducks and spins and weaves like her bones are made of water. She smiles as the man sounds his frustration.

Then when he goes for another strike, Erelia draws two daggers from her boots, meeting his steel with her own. Looking at him through their crossed blades, she wills the power through her eyes. Let him see her as death, let him see her as a martyr for those his kind has killed.

Pushing him off, the soldier stumbles back, but before he can fall into the flames, she grabs him by the collar of his breastplate. She holds him there, his weight nothing compared to her immortal strength.

She yanks him forward, driving her knee into his sternum and driving her elbow into the back of his skull so he falls limp, but still conscious. Looking to the other soldier, she cocks her head like a cat. He doesn't move.

Spinning her blades, she prowls around the guard as he pushes himself up with his hands. She stomps her foot into his back and he smacks back into the ground. Suddenly he jerks up, his hands going to grab his throat as a ring of purple begins to form, like an invisible noose.

"I will break you, Nord."

"You won't win." He chokes out. His eyes becoming rimmed in red.

"What I do to each soldier, I go for the vengeance of my people."

The soldier chokes, his fingers raking his skin, trying to grab whatever is constricting him. "What kind of a queen rules with vengeance?"

Erelia leans down, resting her forearms on her knee. The soldier's choking intensifies. "Be happy it's me, and not my people. At least I am willing to give you a swift death. I have better things to do that to watch you Nords squirm."

Lifting her foot from his back, the soldier slowly starts to rise, as if the invisible noose is pulling him up until the tips of his toes dangle a few inches off of the ground. She turns him to face her, and feels her eyes warm with a blistering light, her hair billowing around in a ghostly breeze as the man begins to kick his feet and gasp for little breath. The purple marking around his neck tightens and tightens, the skin indenting more, more, more . . .

Then that loud crack. The sound twining through her like a harp. The soldier's eyes roll back into his head, his arms falling limp at his side, blood drooling from the corner of his mouth.

With a quick exhale of breath, the circle of fire is extinguished in one fell swoop, and the soldier drops like a stone into the ground. The horses startle and tumble back, but don't run.

Slowly, she looks over her shoulder to the last Stormcloak. Strands of her hair wash over her face, rippling as she takes slow breaths. "Don't you wish to avenge him?"

The Stormcloak doesn't say anything, but he raises a shaking hand towards his belt. Erelia takes a step forward.

"Not quite the fighting spirit I expected." Another step forward, the horses scuttling back.

But then the Stormcloak suddenly drops to his knees and removes his helmet. Ember-gold eyes find hers, and wheat-brown hair whispers in her ghostly wind. He quirks an eyebrow, but then is taken aback when the soldier bows before her – his forehead touching the dirt.

"My Lady Queen." He whispers, barely audible were it not for her immortal hearing. She now stands before the Stormcloak, the toes of her boots barely an inch from the man's head. He doesn't move.

"Who says Nords never have surprises?" she breaths. "Rise."

The soldier obeys. In another exhale of breath, everything stills. Her ghostly breeze has ebbed, her hair settling around her, and no trace of the ring of fire is evident. There is only the quiet of the forest, not even the animals dare to sound, as if everything is holding its breath.

"Why do you bow, Nord? Does Ulfric think sympathy will win my favor?" she speaks, her voice stern and powerful.

The Stormcloak bows again. "My Lady Queen" – Queen – "I have been in the army for nine months now, my wife pregnant with my first child. I joined the army in hopes of finding _you_. I assumed at some point you would begin your hunt for Ulfric's army, and so I waited."

Erelia tilts her head to the side, curious, hiding the surprise. Her mind whispers a trap, something to earn her trust and spill her secrets. But his scent, his heartbeat . . . nothing has changed. And then there's the smell of fear laced between the sweat emitting from excitement.

"Nords never look into backgrounds as long as you chant Ulfric's name like a god." The soldier murmurs. He lifts his head and removes his fur gantlet. Erelia's hand twitches for her dagger, but as the soldier pulls his sleeve up, her heart sinks when he reveals the Celtic knot tattooed on his forearm.

The emblem of House Glendeylin. The representation of the Glendeylin Family Bloodline.

"I grew up in a Nord family. I grew up thinking that Ulfric would lead Skyrim to a better place. But he's only using his power to climb to the High Throne. And what he did to Elsweyr Princess's people . . ."

Erelia swallows thickly.

The soldier shakes his head. "I wish to abandon the Stormcloaks; abandon Ulfric, and see an honorable heir on the Throne of Skyrim. The past and present makes me despise being a Nord myself. I only beg that you find it in your heart to allow me into your army."

He resumes to bowing before her. Blinking slowly, Erelia extends out her hand, twinkling light of heavenly blue dance at her fingertips. The soldier lifts his head as she takes a half-step towards him, and she lays her thumb against his forehead. He grows still.

This is a special trick that she had learned from the Arch-Mage at the College of Winterhold. A special truth spell that allows one to see the thoughts and intentions of the person.

And with every thought and memory she trudges, she can feel her mask of neutrality melting.

He is telling the truth. In fact, he's withholding aspects of the truth as well: he was raised with strict parents, with strong beliefs in Talos. But through his eyes as a child, he was around during the slaughter of the Snow Elves, of her people. And news reached him, he even prayed to Auri-El to give them a heavenly welcome. His father beat him for praying when he got caught.

Erelia withdraws her thumb and steps back. The soldier holds his head and grunts in pain. A headache no doubt – and he leans forward, rubbing his scalp.

"I apologize." Erelia mumbles. "I cannot be too careful."

He coughs and waves his hand. "I – I understand."

The way his tone hitches and how his hands shake makes her heart sink. She kneels down in front of him, her hands glowing a warm, buttery yellow. She delicately caresses his face and the soldier stills, his breathing growing even and his shaking ebbing. He takes a deep breath when she releases him.

She rises and extends out a hand. He looks to her, taken aback by her un-queenlike behavior. Still he grabs her hand and she easily hoists him up with her immortal strength. "There's a rebel camp not too far outside Ivarstead. I'll give you the coordinates and it shouldn't take more than three days including rest time." she instructs.

She reaches for her belt and takes out a small pendant with the Celtic knot in its center.

"Show them this. Then they'll know of your loyalty." She hands the soldier the necklace and he sets it around his neck. She then takes his map and marks the camp's location.

"The rebels, they know you're alive?"

"Not all, but believe me I am making it known." For a moment, Erelia's eyes darken. "I need them to hold on. To keep fighting."

"They would walk to the ends of the earth for you, My Queen." He says with a bow.

Erelia looks to him, her features still. She turns away from the soldier and begins to walk away. "You'd better get going."

"Shall I not escort you –?"

"No. I have protection, but only if I need it." She walks up to the dead soldier's horse and takes the reins. "I hope you don't mind."

He shakes his head. "Will the rebels accept me? Are you sure they can trust me so easily?"

"Probably not." she bluntly answers as she hoists herself up. "You'll have to be careful, and I'd recommend showing them that tattoo first. It'll at least let them listen to you. But that necklace is key."

"How so?"

"Any rebel who knows their history will explain. And once he or she does, the others will be envious of you." She turns the horse away from him, but looks over her shoulder. "Stay safe, my knight. And please, don't lose hope."

The soldier seems slightly confused, but with her final words, he straightens abruptly and sets his hand over his heart. "I fight for you, Your Majesty."

With a terse nod, she snaps the reins and the horse starts to gather into a gallop. She doesn't look back, but sighs with relief when she hears the sounds of distant hooves. They grow quieter and quieter until she only hears her own. After a few minutes she slows the horse to a trot, taking in each sight and sound and smell with her immortal perception.

She stops at Lake Geir to allow the horse to drink, and to clean off her daggers. She dips her fingers into the water and runs them through her hair, braiding with ease and familiar skill. Minutes pass before she hears a snap of a twig and she turns, rising up as a large shadow approaches. Erelia can only smile, though laced with worry.

"Are you all right?" she asks, wiping the blade with the end of her tunic.

"A little bit itchy but otherwise fine." Farkas says.

Turning towards him, she raises an eyebrow when she beholds his clothes coated with blood. She sheathes her daggers and approaches, stopping when the smell reaches her nose. "Oh gods, is there anything left of them? Judging from the smell, it seems they bled out all over you."

Farkas approaches the river, unbuckling his belt of weapons. "It's the only way I know they won't jeopardize our mission."

Even if she didn't have her pointed ears, it doesn't take immortal hearing to notice something underlining his tone. Still she watches as he begins to undress, not even asking about the sudden horse she acquired.

"How much did you see?" she asks, without even turning to him.

"Enough."

Erelia bites back her retort. She hates it when he gives such simple, one-syllable answers. It's one of the few evidence she knew of that tells her when he's pissed off. She strolls over to the horse, only just now checking the bags for supplies. "What seems to be bothering you?"

Only silence safe for the sloshing of water and grunting of Farkas as she plashes his face. Erelia fists her hands around the flap of a riding satchel. A silent treatment angers her beyond belief with its childish nature. She bites her lip to keep from freezing the water around him.

Looking to him, he's turned halfway to her, the water reaching his waist. Erelia tries not to think about how the moonlight and reflection of the water does wonders to show off his abdomen.

"Farkas." She barks.

His hands settle in the water and he lifts his head, sighing. There's a moment of quiet before he says, "I didn't know your magic could do such things."

Her heart skips a beat and she swallows thickly. "Neither did I." she begins to dig through the satchel. "Would you believe me if I said I had little training?"

"I would. And it would also concern me." Farkas speaks, his splashing resuming.

"Look, if it's about the way I killed the soldier, then tell me so. Explain to me why it bothers you instead of shutting me out when you're pissed." She spits. She can feel the warmth of her anger – or perhaps it's her fire – coursing through her, slowly reaching towards her fingertips, towards her mouth.

"It's now about how you killed him; I've seen you kill before. In fact, I'd like to think I've seen you at your worst."

 _More like_ hoping _you've seen me at my worst_.

Farkas then says, "It's what I saw as you killed that soldier."

This makes Erelia pause. Her fingers had just found a reasonably sizable coin purse when he spoke, holding it as she turns to him. He looks up at her, his cerulean eyes hurt.

"You weren't a completely different person." He breaths. He trudges through the water to her, small waves breaking. He only stops when he's inches from her, so close she can feel his warmth and see droplets trailing down strands of his hair. "You weren't the woman I knew."

"I wasn't the woman you loved, you mean."

"My love for you is unquestionable. That should be obvious. But who I saw, that wasn't you. That wasn't even Libitania Desidenius. It was . . ."

"A monster?" At the word alone her lips tremble and her voice hitches in her tightened throat.

"No. It was someone who didn't have joy in the slightest. Someone who revels in the pain of others. Someone I didn't think that you were."

Erelia is quiet, swallowing and licking her lips as her blood pumps in her ear. Her skin feels hot, or could that be the fire in her veins. "Farkas, we've talked about this. You were there when you found me in Nassari's chambers. You saw what I had done to Marionette, had heard what I had done in Cidhna Mines."

She steps back, breathing quietly through her nose to try and let the cold air quench her heating skin.

"I've told you before how different I can be. I told you about this monster inside of me. I try to keep it contained, but I'm not always successful – especially when it relates to things that I love. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. That _monster_ is part of who I am." She softens her tone and relaxes her features. The heat is now creeping towards her face. "But I try, Farkas, I really do try to control it."

It's just that one situation, for the briefest of moments she had seen the kind of Nords who had so mercilessly slaughtered her kind, her kingdom. She had seen the men who had ruined her life and she felt herself shrink down into that little girl again. But just as quickly, she gripped her magic and conducted it to her will.

It was by pure luck she didn't destroy herself in doing so. When she said she had so little training, it wasn't an exaggeration. Her mother was supposed to train her, teach her, but it was too late.

And with the magic in Riften limited, her powers were only snuffed into submission. They laid dormant inside her, only emerging in times of desperation. Sometimes she even smuggled certain potions into her home – potions of which had a high concentration of iron to keep it further pinned.

When she snapped in Cidhna Mines, when she "saved" Princess Nassari from Marionette, she can only describe it like having her immortal vision and skills, which she might have. Everything was clear and brutal, and she had a perfect plan even if she didn't know it herself. It was dangerous, but she had control over every inch of her body. Every muscle, every vein felt alive and glorious and burning.

She takes Farkas' hands, grateful for the cold water. She tries not to listen to the sounds of hushed hissing.

"You're going to see it one way or another. There's no avoiding it, I just hope you'll still love me as much as you say you do."

Farkas looks at her, looks _into_ her, and the doubt in his eyes is enough to make her heart crack.

But still he says, "I will."

He says it, but it's not a promise. Even when he kisses her and holds her close, that doubt still leaves her feeling fractured. A little crevice. A fissure that she hopes will be mended.


	6. Chapter 5

They ride through the night until they reach Lake Geir, thinking it'd be best to avoid some towns for a while. No doubt rumors will immediately spread about Erelia Glendeylin being spotted in Ivarstead, and how she torched a group of Stormcloak guards.

She couldn't ignore the ache in her heart with each step the horses take further and further away from her homeland; her territory. At the same time, her heart is divided. She wants to go home, to set foot on Snow Elf territory and go _home_ ; but at the same time, she needs to build her army. She won't be a very useful heir if she doesn't bring home her own militia to protect her land. The rebels can hold their own, but she needs more money, more allies. Even if they're not her first and willing choice.

Twilight is breaking the horizon, pale colors of pink and orange pushing away the curtain of night. She's tried to avoid looking at the map for as long as she needs, Farkas navigating them for the hours they ride, and she keeps herself busy by setting up their small camp and beating out bedrolls.

Still, the thought of the Dawnguard constantly creeps into her mind, and how she could use them. The idea alone making her feel so cold and calculating – and sick. She doesn't want to be like the others. She doesn't want to be like Ulfric, like Tullius. But she might have to be if she wants allies and wants to become a threat to the others.

They've finally managed to find a rebel camp, of which the inhabitants welcomed her with open arms, even bowing with their head to the dirt as she and Farkas walked up on horseback, and a Bosmer and Orc helped them dismount.

She met with the commander of the camp, a Khajiit female named Ashuki proudly wearing the armor of Elsweyr. The sight of her does make Erelia's heart ache at the thought of Nassari, and the rebels that Ulfric so wrongfully executed. But she bows to Erelia and briefly sizes up Farkas. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she's just as exotic as she is intimidating.

Ashuki leans over the table, spread with a map of Skyrim and extensions of Tamriel. "We've had a courier traveling from camp to camp to count how many lie in each hold. It would seem the numbers have increased with the matters of a week."

"How so?"

"The number of inhabitants to the actual number of camps. You're gaining more and more support each day, Your Majesty."

 _Your Majesty_ , as if they've already come to the conclusion that she has the throne.

"So it would seem that it's all I have."

"I beg your pardon?" Ashuki asks, straightening to set her hands on her hips.

"Forgive me," Erelia immediately recovers. "My mind has been occupied for the last few weeks."

"I could say the same for us. This is probably one of the best days of anyone's life here." Erelia looks to her confused, rubbing her arm in nervousness. As much as she knew that she had to act strong, like a stone for her militia, she just can't help herself. "Many thought they were fighting for a lost cause, to be honest; but now, seeing you here, seeing that you're actually alive and well, it's given them new hope. Especially since we heard news of your whereabouts from Ivarstead."

"If you heard this quickly, I can't imagine how soon the news reached the Stormcloaks and Imperials."

"Everything you do travels quickly, Your Majesty. You're the new hope of Skyrim." Ashuki says with a soft smile; an attempt to ease her nerves. "But I'm afraid I digress, what is it that seems to be bothering you?"

Erelia's eyes trail over Ashuki's armor, wreathed in leather and mixed with chain mail, it's not that hard to picture someone like her walking through a desert with a turban on her head and a billowing cape behind her.

"I need to expand my army. I need to find allies; fine more support from across Skyrim; to establish myself before I can return to my territory and seek out help."

"Are you saying there could be more of you?"

"No. At least, not many but –"

"But with Snow Elves, we probably don't need that many. You're plenty powerful yourself."

She would've told the commander not to set her hopes to high, or her expectation, but the last thing she needs is to sound doubtful when already it would seem her own supporters are growing weary.

"So are you suggesting we begin taking cities, My Lady?"

"Absolutely not." Erelia immediately rejects. She rests her palms on the table, Farkas leaning against one of the support posts of the tent. "Not yet; not with the numbers spread so thin. No, we need to unite the rebels, gather them all in one place so that I can see what it is that I have, and how I need to expand."

Her tone grew more firm as she spoke, finding more confidence as an actual plan began to form. One that would buy her time, and give her the idea of how many supposed rebels actually followed her. Besides, having them scattered about the holds was too dangerous. They would get picked off one by one by both armies of both parties.

"It will take time to send word out to each camp we've already tracked, and are still tracking as we speak."

"I'm well aware." Erelia speaks softly. "But perhaps your plan to take cities isn't one I shouldn't disclose as of yet."

"What are you sighting on, My Lady?" Ashuki asks.

With a conspirator's grin, Erelia sets her finger on the map and says, "Rifthold."

Farkas immediately perks up, eyebrows high and alert. Ashuki holds her chin for a moment, her gold earrings clinking against one another and the braids of her large ponytail fall over her shoulder. "Quite the interesting first choice."

"It's the easiest first choice." Erelia rewords. "I have connections there, and when we take the city and usurp the throne, I know the perfect person to place."

Ashuki hums. "Might I ask why you feel so confident in this hold? And what connections do you possibly have?"

Despite wanting nothing more than to be honest with her followers, some part of her just isn't ready to expose that side of herself to them. What would they think of a Queen who came from a band of thieves, killing her way to the top and allying with the lowest of the low?

Then again, they didn't really have to know; she could refrain her information until the time comes. The time of which she can choose.

Still, her tongue tastes sour as she simply says, "In regards to confidence, Rifthold is frankly a backwater town with no rules, and guards that could be paid off. The guards could be bought to keep my location secret, but also because – to answer 'connections' curiosity – I know the leader of the Thieves Guild."

Ashuki's eyes widen, her brows lifting high. Her mouth drops agape slightly, stuttering as she attempts to ask the next question Erelia saw coming. "D-Do you mean . . .?"

"Libitania, Skyrim's most feared assassin. She was associated with the Thieves Guild closely before she turned to blood." Erelia describes, feeling awkward in spilling her own past.

"But Libitania was last seen with the Companions after canceling her contract with the Prince of Morthal. They say she killed him in front of the entire court after his mother sentenced him to his own execution."

"Yes, she did." Erelia says hoarsely.

"No one has seen or heard from her since. They don't know where she is, or what she could be doing." Ashuki continues.

"Even if she's fled to the farthest reaches of Skyrim, she had to have left someone in charge of the Guild. And whoever it is, I'll find out."

"Did she disclose such information to you?"

Erelia forces herself to grin slyly, "We've met on one or two occasions. She's quite a lovely young lady."

Ashuki suddenly bursts into laughter, clapping Erelia heavily on the shoulder. "A queen who deals in criminals. Quite a first impressionist I see. Well, so long as your sure that you can trust these Thieves Guild members; but what will be our first plan of action?"

"We need to get word to the Guild discreetly, somehow. Then they can begin prepping the city from below. We will then need to try and smuggle the rebels _inside_ the city through the sewage system, the Ratways, then we can root Rifthold from the ground up."

"Very interesting." Ashuki says, holding her furry chin in her hand. "You think you will have the opportunity to see and meet Libitania?"

Erelia shrugs. "Knowing my luck, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Then you must bring extra protection with you, My Lady. We can't risk you losing your life to simple thieves." Ashuki immediately says.

Erelia looks to the Khajiit, and smirks slightly, perhaps dangerously. "You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"Of course I do, I just need to be cautious. As should you. Your life is of the most importance. We can't let anything happen you."

"Don't worry, I've actually faced Libitania in the past; and frankly, she's much lovelier in person."

Keeping that smirk across her lips, the smirk that Farkas has come to memorize, Erelia takes a deep breath. As she does, she can feel the spider-crawl ripple of her form shifting. She can feel her ears shrinking and her eyesight dulling as she shifts back into her mortal form. The color starts at her roots and drips down into its familiar ebony black. A spark of recognition reflects in Farkas' eyes and before she could blink, he strolls over and stands at her side. Her stone; her storm given flesh.

Ashuki stares at her with wide eyes as Erelia breathes and feels the familiar skin fit to her, and she is Libitania once again. The Khajiit is baffled, mouth agape and at a loss for words. Good. at least she's not jumping to conclusions.

"Please allow me to explain." She says, her voice still gentle, still soft like a royal. "When my mother was murdered, my father –"

"Gallus."

Erelia stiffens at the sound of her father's voice, and she doesn't stop when the tears immediately flood her eyes. She knew why she's been so emotional the past few days, and hopefully it'll provide, compassion from the rebels.

"Yes." She says, taking a rattling inhale. "When we fled the castle, he put this cloaking spell on me; to protect me. We had to become the lowest of the low just to avoid eyes visible and invisible." She begins to fidget with her hands, leaning closer to Farkas, and he instantly wraps a hand around her waist. "But within that time, I had gotten so caught up in, my other self. I had almost wished to abandon Erelia Glendeylin because the past held too much pain. Too much responsibility."

She finally admits it. At least, outwardly. She can't help but clutch Farkas' hand as her hand drift to her heart; to clench the necklace bearing the Celtic knot. The symbol of House Glendeylin. Ashuki didn't say anything, nor did the other rebels who are present in the room. she probably should've saved this for a bonfire gathering, but Ashuki is the Commander here and the rebels don't seem to question her. Maybe, hopefully they still won't if she ever decides to tell them what she saw.

"But after witnessing Skyrim's cruelty and corrupt first hand, I realized I had been a fool to abandon my throne. Abandon my people. I know what I did is not, the most dignifying. I know what I did makes me no better than Ulfric. I killed for money, I reveled in the luxuries of my gutter lifestyle while my people were left hiding in the outskirts of Skyrim; while many other races here are in chains, being whipped and beaten and tortured." Erelia then straightens her back, lifts her chin and steps away from Farkas. She undoes the buttons of her tunic, letting the fabric softly drop around her shoulders with a whisper. "But I have worked alongside them. I have suffered and prayed, alongside them. And I will never forget the kindness they each bestowed upon me."

Her front was scarred enough, but when she turns her back to Ashuki, she's ever grateful for the quiet gasps as they behold the ruined flesh of her back. But also at the tattoo she had done, the graceful and beautiful designs that curl, swoop and twist in the ancient language of the Snow Elves. She pulls her hair forward, twiddling with its ebony ends.

"I could've died from infection, but a Khajiit woman woke up extra early to help heal my wounds. Even smuggling me a healing salve at breakfast." Erelia says over her shoulder, her voice above a whisper. "I ever got to thank her. The next morning four overseers raped and killed her. And then the day that I snapped in Cidhna Mines, I went and returned their favor in kind."

She turns back to Ashuki, holding her shirt up just to cover her breasts. The Khajiit Commander has narrows brows, but her eyes are glistening like glass. She didn't have to mention that the overseers were Nordic. Any hold in Skyrim that is Stormcloak supporter has Nords running the slave mines. Another means to show they are superior.

Erelia gives an inconspicuous shake of her head. "They died too quickly." She adjusts the fabric back around her shoulders, buttoning slowly. "I'm not showing you this as some excuse, as some pardon for what I did. What I have done is truly unforgivable. But I will work until my dying day, to rebuild my kingdom and this land. I will not hide my face any longer; I will not fall from grace. But if you choose not to follow me, I understand."

Her voice breaks by the end of it, nausea clenching her gut as she feels as though she is signing away her only militia. Libitania had killed so many people – and ruined so many more lives. She knows there will be those who doubt, those who won't see her as a fitting queen; unworthy of the throne for her abandonment. But she can at least redeem some parts of herself by facing those who support her now.

Ashuki approaches her, eyes still gleaming, but still stern. "Many won't be pleased with this; if you decide to go public with this, news."

"Of course." Erelia instantly replies. She can feel Farkas shift uncomfortably behind her.

"I don't know how the rest will respond." She says.

"If I may, could you wait to tell them? You run this camp, so I chose you to disclose this _personal_ information. If I have you approval, then we may move forward. But if not –"

"I'm not saying no." Ashuki interjects. "We've built too much on this to simply drop it. But this is still much to process, I have close friends whose lives have been effected by Libitania, Skyrim's Assassin."

Erelia bites her lip and covers her mouth to keep a sob from escaping. Her voice quakes when she speaks. "I really have no other explanation then being selfish. It's much easier not to think about the other person at the end of my blade."

Ashuki is quiet, her gaze downcast. "You can stay here in the camp, for however long you need. And I will follow your request to, keep your secret until you're ready."

"Thank you." Erelia says with a dip of her chin. Slowly, she begins to shift back into her elven self, her hair gleaning with silver. "I shall take my leave then."

"Reemus will show you to your quarters." Upon hearing his name, an Argonian male steps forward, an Imperial bow strapped across his back. "Have a good night."

Erelia can't get past the rigidness in her tone, but at least she didn't try to chuck a dagger at her neck. Still, she bows politely to the others in the tent as they pass, Farkas unnervingly quiet as they follow Reemus to their assigned tent.

The Argonian doesn't say much either, he barely looks over his shoulders when he asks her, "How many lives have you taken?"

The questions itself is too quiet. Her thoughts flash back to when she was on trial with all the jarls of Skyrim who gathered at a moot just for her. A steward of – Jarl Elisif, if she remembers – read the long list of victims claimed by Libitania Desidenius. Only those when she was training with Zusa Phoenix of the Faceless. Her crimes of the Thieves Guild are never tracked. When it was all over, she didn't deny anything and then she was sent to Cidhna Mines.

"Too many." She mumbles back.

"Do you regret any of them?" Reemus continues. Farkas gives a low warning growl, but Erelia gently places her hand on his forearm.

"I never killed children." She starts with. Irrelevant, admittedly, but somehow still very important. "I killed adulterated nobles and twisted governors striving for power. It felt very rarely when the average citizen was involved."

"But they still did."

Erelia sucks on a tooth as Reemus looks over his shoulder to her. She schools her face into neutrality as she says, "Yes."

Reemus is quiet until they reach their assigned cabin, and when he opens the door inward, Farkas goes first and as Erelia, he speaks. "I had a cousin who was murdered. They say it was an accident, but my family thinks it was a murder. By Libitania."

Erelia pauses and ponders. She remembers much of the citizen kills because she remembers the anger that clouded her thoughts at how undeserving it was for them to be targeted. A majority of them were happy families, gathering around tables and holding hands in prayer to the Divines. So normal. So peaceful.

"What was his occupation?" she asks.

"Trader. He would sell wares from the Black Marsh in Skyrim."

"Anything specific?"

Reemus tightens his lips into a line, clearly irked at her questions, almost feeling disgusted to talk to her now. "Clothes. All kinds to anyone. He never stayed in one place."

Erelia inhales, blinking slowly when it rattles. "Yes. I remember." Reemus looks to her in a way that indicates he wants to bite her neck out there. Farkas noticed it too and she could hear the dirt shift behind her. "I didn't kill him."

Reemus pauses, looking confused and untrusting at her words.

"He had a family: a wife and two little boys at the time." The Argonian nods. "I was supposed to kill him under the pay of a Stormcloak soldier who didn't like the way he spoke to him while making a trade. It was too easy to sneak into the house and stalk up to their beds and place my dagger at his neck."

Reemus' hand drifts to the pommel of his dagger, Farkas advancing closer with a deep growl vibrating his throat.

"But it is much easier to go to a sick house and take the head of an already dead Argonian and stuff it in a sack. Travel with it for weeks so that it has proper time to decompose and then throw it at the feet of Zusa Phoenix and lie through my rutting _teeth_ , that it's whom she asked for." She dares to take a step towards Reemus. "I didn't kill them. I didn't kill _any_ of them. I gave them all time to fled and to change their names and occupations. To flee to the far edges of Skyrim, possibly further."

She steps back and makes to enter the tent when she looks over her shoulder to the Argonian standing with mouth agape.

"If you want to find your cousin, look for the name: Nerum Casmareen. He's now a trader of food now and lives in Rorikstead."

With that she closes the door, thankful for the blinds that block the door's window. Sconces cast the cabin in a soft buttery glow, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. The family room is on the immediate right and a few steps back brings you into the dining room. Through an open doorway is the kitchen, then when venturing further to the left it breaks off into a single bathroom and bedroom. This must've been an old hunter's cabin given how, clean everything is and how updated with its soft cushioned couch and clean white plates stacked in the hutch.

As Erelia sighs, readying to just fall into the bed, Farkas steps in front of her. She doesn't pay much attention to is, walking into him and resting her forehead against his chest, expecting him to embrace her.

Instead he takes her by the arms and sets her back. "What the hell were you thinking?" he asks, and Erelia's heart sinks at the tone.

"What?"

"Why would you expose yourself like that? Do you not know the risks?"

Erelia's eyebrows narrow and she sneers. "Of course I do! But I can't run from my past; I've already figured that out."

"But why tell them that you and Libby are the same person? You might as well be signing away your army." He growls.

"I feel like they would've found out sooner or later. My past seems to have a habit of coming back to haunt me." She lowers her voice. "You sleep with me all the time Farkas; you know the nightmares I have. You really think I'd be able to sleep knowing there are people working for me of whose lives I might've affected?"

"But why tell _them_ everything?! You could lose your army!"

Erelia's voice has reached a deadly calm when she says, "And what would you say when they find out who I used to be once I've claimed the throne? I could easily be overruled, and they'll still feel used, but when I'm _queen_?"

"You could've spaced things out. You could've kept it simple; tell them you and Libby worked together; she gave you permission to walk among the Thieves Guild, gave you all sorts of contacts. If people heard that Skyrim's Assassin was siding with the Lost Queen, you could've gained a lot more support. Instead you risk throwing it all away because of a guilty conscience?!"

Erelia takes a deep breath, biting back her rage that feels like a living fire through her veins. "I am not going to build my empire on lies, Farkas. Not anymore. My father did it because he had no choice; he was trying to protect me. I continued it because I was selfish – I didn't want to embrace who I was. But now that I've accepted who I am, now that I'm taking on responsibilities that will bear heavily on my shoulders, I need the support."

"And what will happen when your own rebels revolt against you?"

She can feel her eyes growing dull and dead. The fire in her muscles grows to the point where it's in her throat, and she has to swallow it back before the fire pools from her lips.

"Then I will tie _myself_ to the whipping posts of Winterhold and let the victims take a whip to my back." Even when Farkas' eyes widen, she says, "It is the least that I deserve."

Without giving him a chance to retort, she steps around him and heads for the bedroom. Just to make him quiver a little more, she undoes the buttons of her tunic and lets the fabric fall when she walks. With her mutilated and tattooed back exposed, she pauses to glance over her shoulder, no doubt the gold ringing her pupil looking as alive as the fire she feels inside.

"Mark my words Farkas: I will rebuild Skyrim to her former glory. I will create a kingdom of which _no one_ has ever seen. Even until my last breath."

Even if the look of fear in his eyes is enough to make her heart fracture, Erelia continues into the bedroom, throwing herself onto the bed.

She doesn't remember falling asleep.


End file.
